


Awakening

by Amberdreams, blackrabbit42



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrabbit42/pseuds/blackrabbit42
Summary: Jensen's job as Captain of Empress Danneel's Imperial Guard is a privileged position, if a little dull compared to being one of Overlord Misha's Minions. Jensen kind of likes dull, but his life is about to get a whole lot more interesting with the arrival of a new recruit, Ensign Padalecki.





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollarformyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollarformyname/gifts).



> Co written for the J2_reversebang 2017 for the fabulous prompt by dollarformyname. Make sure you check our her art master post and leave her all the love! On LJ : https://dollarformyname.livejournal.com/86208.html

text-align: center; [ ](https://dollarformyname.livejournal.com/86208.html)

**1.**[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20)  


Six months ago when Commander Morgan had put Jensen in charge of new recruits to the Imperial Guard, he’d grumbled and bitched silently about acting as nursemaid and drill sergeant to a bunch of naïve farm boys. Then three months ago Prince Gino Graul manifested the ability to command metal to do his bidding, tried to murder his sister the Empress, and the Merovingian Empire went to shit.

Now training new guards felt like the best place Jensen could be, as the Imperial Guard were the only soldiers yet to be deployed in the Psychic Purge that had followed Gino’s imprisonment. Jensen hadn’t joined the military to do house to house searches and round up his own people, even ones who looked a bit dodgy and might be able to curl his hair with a thought. If Jensen hadn’t been there and seen Gino do his sword-bending trick, he would have been even more sceptical about this whole mind-powers epidemic. Until that moment, psychics had been the stuff of children’s tales, up there alongside unicorns and Big Foot.

Jensen scanned the latest crop of recruits with a critical eye. Was it just him, or did they look particularly wet behind the ears? There was a time when only the cream of the land got into the Imperial Guard, but Jensen wasn’t convinced that this lot were ready for a game of tiddly winks, let alone the kind of ordeals he was preparing to put them through as part of their training. For heaven’s sake, only two of them were even tall enough to see over the new anti-riot body shields Overlord Misha had insisted on issuing, and that was going to look ridiculous when they were in their dress uniforms escorting the Empress through Merovia City. Not that Danneel had ventured anywhere outside her chambers for weeks, let alone into the streets of the city.

Jensen wondered if the new soldiers realised how lucky they were to have been selected for the Imperial Guard and not syphoned off into the Battalion, or worse, Misha’s Minions. Since the Purge began, Overlord Misha, Empress Danneel’s chief advisor, and his crack troops the Minions had been at the forefront of the drive to weed out every psychic in the land, while Danneel herself had hardly been seen. Jensen supposed he understood that, though part of him was hurt by it. He, Danneel and Gino had been childhood friends, after all, so this messy business was hurting Jensen in more ways than one. He was struggling to believe Gino would really try to murder Danni, but his opinion didn’t matter. Danni was convinced, and Jensen’s position as a childhood fosterling didn’t allow him to question her judgement, as had been made very clear to him when he’d protested at Gino’s arrest.

“Sir?”

Jensen looked up from his musings into a pair of slanted, earnest eyes shadowed by a mop of unruly chestnut hair. One of the two tall recruits, who was, Jensen realised with a shock, taller than Jensen himself, had stepped out of line to pick up a sheet of paper that must have slipped out of the folder tucked under Jensen’s arm. From the expression on the recruit’s face, it wasn’t the first ‘sir’ that had come out of those pretty pink lips, and no, Jensen really was _not_ going there right now. Shoving all inappropriate thoughts out of his head, including the ones about possible uses for those lips, Jensen frowned at the paper waving under his nose.

“Did I give permission to break ranks, ensign?” he barked. Tall and handsome (yes, the kid was definitely worth a second look, not that Jensen was thinking about anything like that right now, no sir) snapped to attention so fast Jensen heard a tendon pop. Jensen winced internally while revising his estimate of the kid’s age upwards to something closer to his own.

“That’s right, ensign, I didn’t,” he said, answering his own question. “Now get back in line before my patience runs out.”

The recruit stumbled backwards with a satisfying alacrity, still clutching the paper. Jensen was about to order the kid to hand it over when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Jensen knew without turning around that someone was watching him. He ignored the feeling. It had been happening more and more over the last few weeks, and it was creeping him out. Every time he looked around, there was nothing there, but he was left with the certainty that he was in danger. It was disconcerting. This time, however, he saw a flicker of movement reflected in the eyes of his recruits, and when he spun on his heel, he was in time to catch the swing of a dark cloak as its wearer disappeared through the gate to the palace.

His frown deepened and he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose against the headache he could feel building inside his skull. Like the creepy stalker feeling, headaches had been a constant companion for the last few weeks, and Jensen was heartily sick of both.

He turned back to his new recruits and sighed.  The row was ragged, they didn’t even know how to stand like soldiers, and the boy on the end looked like he was about to pass out. Jensen wondered how Morgan expected him to turn out Imperial Guards from material like this. Maybe they’d look better when Dorset sorted out their uniforms.

Jensen squared his shoulders. Time to test their mettle.

**2.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/Ld53hj) **

It was clear that Jensen didn’t remember him.  Which yeah, kind of hurt but Jared couldn’t blame Jensen.  As a fosterling to the Empress, Jensen wouldn’t have had much opportunity to notice Jared, a mere apprentice in the castle foundry.  But Jared had noticed him.  He’d lived and breathed for opportunities to watch Jensen.

And on one occasion, saved his life.

Jensen and the rest of the command might have their doubts about whether there were really that many psychics living in Merovia City, but Jared didn’t. He could feel them. Their powers pressed in on him as he walked the streets. The real question was whether any of them were really dangerous. Jared didn’t think so. That girl at the mechanic’s on Sudbury Street?  She could inflict pain with a mere twitch of her finger. Yet Jared had never seen her even step on a spider. That slab of muscle who sold weapons in the lower city?  The one who could muster a private militia of cutthroats if he had the whim? Jared just happened to know that his power was talking to birds, which he frequently did when he thought no one was looking.

The point being, ever since he became aware of his own psychic power, he’d only ever seen people use theirs for ill once, and that was when one of Jensen’s rivals lost control in a fit of temper and sent out a psychic blast that would have stopped Jensen’s heart.  Jared had blocked it, not an easy task from his hiding spot in the battlements high above the courtyard, but effective.  Jensen never knew, and if his rival wondered what had happened to block the blow, he knew better than to reveal that he had thrown it in the first place.

No matter.  He’d been in Jensen’s squad for a week now, and he no longer had to hide in the shadows to do his self appointed job.  Jensen ate, slept, worked and lived with his men. Jared didn’t find the training easy but he had the advantage of already being in reasonable physical shape from his time at the foundry, whereas most of the other recruits were the idle second sons of nobles, diplomats and wealthy merchants. Jensen was hard on them, pushed them to their limits, but it was nothing Jared couldn’t handle, and he was free to keep his senses trained on Jensen.

Which wasn’t particularly hard to do, considering their forced proximity. Jensen continuously circled his recruits; nothing escaped his watchful eye.

“Ensign Padalecki, get that back leg anchored underneath you.”  Jensen kicked his boot sideways against Jared’s back foot, adjusting his stance.  “Lock that arm down.”  Jensen’s hand tugged Jared’s elbow down and tight, and Jared got a shock at the skin on skin contact.

All this time, watching Jensen, he’d never suspected.  It was faint.  Maybe it was new. But there was definitely a film of psychic energy flowing around Jensen. This close, Jared could feel it tugging at his mind in a clumsy, inexperienced way.  His eyes flew up, questioning, but Jensen is already moving on to the next recruit.

“Murray, what in the name of Norah’s underdrawers do you think you are doing with that bayonette?” he barked. Jared had to fight the urge to snicker. Jensen’s natural speaking voice was smooth and gentle, nothing like the gravel-rough bass he’d apparently adopted when they pinned stripes on his uniform. Jared wasn’t sure how he knew this fact, since he can’t remember ever really getting close to Jensen before now, but he doesn’t question it.

Mind control. One of the most dangerous of psychic abilities. If Misha knew about this, Jensen would be rounded up with the rest of the psychics.  Thrown in containment cells or worse. The official word was that they were being isolated, for their own good and for public safety. But Jared had the uneasy feeling that there were more psychics than there were cells to hold them, and more coming in every day.  The numbers added up to a whole bunch of shallow graves somewhere.

It didn’t matter. Overlord Misha obviously didn’t know about Jensen, and Jared wasn’t going to let him find out. The question in his mind was whether _Jensen_ even realized it. What he’d felt was weak and uncoordinated, the way children’s powers were before they learned how to control them. Jensen might not have a clue about his own potential.

“Padalecki!  Mind in the game!” Jensen called from the other side of the training yard. It was a most appropriate instruction, given the tenor of Jared’s thoughts.

Jared tried an experiment.  His own talent was pretty useless.  He could sense other psychic abilities, and shield himself from them.  But what if… what if instead of pushing back against Jensen, he let Jensen in?

The whole thing was risky, but the moment it occurred to him, he was already trying it.

Without pausing his drills, Jared reached out with his mind, tentatively feeling at the space around Jensen. He wasn’t mistaken, it was there, unmistakable. The membrane was thin and fragile to be sure, but fresh and energetic. Jared relaxed his shield, let it soften, let Jensen’s energy penetrate it.

This time was different. Jensen’s head snapped around, and his gaze honed in on Jared. For a moment, there was a two-way conduit there, and Jared felt Jensen in his mind. Not controlling, as he’d probably be capable of with more practice, just… filling him.  Probing Jared’s thoughts, teasing out deep desires Jared really, really didn’t want exposed—

Jared pulled back, hard, his shields snapping back into place quicker than blinking. He couldn’t let Jensen know. Deep shame floods him, remembering all the times he’d watched Jensen. All the times he… _thought_ of Jensen. If Jensen got wind of this, Jared would be out of the squad as fast as Jensen could sign the discharge papers. So he walled himself up tight. Close. Concentrated on the exercises as if nothing had happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jensen close his eyes and rub his temples.  It was unlike him to show any sign of weakness, any sign of fatigue, so the psychic push-pull really must have taken a lot out of him.

Jared had to focus.  Remember why he was here.  Stay near Jensen.  Keep them both shielded.  Up until now, it had just been a vague sort of selfish urge that had come apparently out of nowhere when he first saw the Captain. But now, Jared knew that Jensen was in more trouble than either of them had realized. Jared had to keep himself in line, not let anything jeopardize his place in this squad.

It was easy to get lost in the drills, let Jensen’s voice lead him, let his body take over.  Before he knew it, Jensen dismissed the squad, and Jared was trudging with the rest of the recruits through the evening gloom toward their bunks, sweaty and exhausted.

“Padalecki, hold back,” Jensen said quietly behind him.

Jared turned, his sweat-drenched back suddenly turning to chill.  Jensen watched the rest of the squad disappear into the bunkhouse. When the last of them was out of earshot, Jensen stepped right up into Jared’s space so their chests were nearly touching.

“Ensign Padalecki,” he growled, low and dangerous.  “What. The hell.  Was that?”

**3.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20) **

Padalecki’s eyes widened comically, and Jensen had to hope the kid never played poker, because there was guilt written all over his face. Which was a puzzle, because try as he might, Jensen couldn’t think why Padalecki should feel guilty. Unless…

“You,” he says, then shut his mouth so quickly his teeth bit together with an audible snap. The training ground was not the place to discuss a suspicion as dangerous as this one – way too public. Besides which, his head was fucking throbbing now, the bright sunshine stabbing his eyes with poniards of light.

“Follow me,” he snapped, and strode towards the inviting shade of the Imperial gardens. He didn’t glance back to see if Padalecki obeyed, but after a couple of steps he heard the crunch of gravel under those giant boots, taking one stride to his two.

Jensen knew just the spot, nice and secluded and rarely frequented by anyone. Even the Imperial gardeners rarely visited. With Padalecki trailing behind him, they made their way down the winding paths under the fragrant orange trees until they reached the small artificial waterfall installed two centuries ago by Empress Doreen the Mad. Clearly not all Doreen’s decisions had been unbalanced, because the noise of the gushing water was perfect for rendering conversations inaudible. Anyone hostile or just plain nosy would hopefully find their curiosity frustrated.

He manfully resisted the urge to shove his whole aching head under the cool flow of water and turned to face Padalecki. Who was standing, awkward and gangly, looking as out of place as a stork in a blacksmith’s shop, surrounded by Danni’s beloved exotic flowers.

“What did you do?” Jensen demanded, gesturing vaguely at his temple. He winced as the pain in his head seemed to spike and he glared at Padalecki. What the fuck was going on?

Padalecki grimaced. “Ow, Jen--sir! Could you just stop one second, you’re projecting and I can’t…”

“I’m what?”

“Your anger, sir. You’re broadcasting all over the place, and I’m trying to stop anything leaking out, but you are a really strong Flare, and – oh shit.”

Jensen stepped back in shock. Padalecki was gritting his teeth, his face pale and sweating, but that wasn’t what had Jensen reeling. Behind the ensign the flow of the Empress’s fountain was slowing, thickening, and the smell – the smell made Jensen’s stomach turn. Metallic and too familiar, stirring memories of battlefields and death. Hesitantly Jensen reached out and dipped one finger in the liquid, staring in horror as it coated his skin with red. Somehow the water had turned to blood.

“Sir. Captain Ackles. Jensen.” Padalecki was talking, but Jensen’s limbs felt frozen, his feet welded to the path.

“Did…did I do this?” He was so hoarse, he barely recognised his own voice.

“Um. Yes?” Padalecki grabbed his arm and pulled him, unresisting, over to the bench where Danni used to love to sit and soak up the sun, before Gino’s apparent betrayal. Jensen’s legs folded and he was embarrassingly grateful for the bench’s support. Padalecki’s hand was warm and comforting, gripping his bare arm, and it didn’t occur to Jensen to tell the ensign to let go.

“Look, I know this must be a bit of a shock, and I can’t believe you didn’t know already, but you are one of the most powerful psychic Flares I’ve ever come across. You’ve not only got mind control abilities but you actually can transform matter. That’s rare. You’re lucky I’m here, because I can throw a shield around you, but man, you’ve got to try and calm down. I’m strong too, but I can’t keep this kind of barrier up for too long, and you’ve already managed to breach it once.”

Padalecki glanced at the ornamental waterfall, and Jensen winced again. He’d done that. He’d somehow turned a water feature into a gore fest, and he didn’t even know how he’d done it, let alone how to turn the blood back into the fresh spring it was supposed to be.  
How could he be a Flare? He’d never shown any signs before. And if he was psychic, what the hell was he going to do now? He was at the heart of a regime that was determined to weed out every mind-bender in the land; added to which, he had no idea how to control these powers that had suddenly manifested themselves.  
To put it more simply, Jensen was fucked.

**4.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/Ld53hj) **

The only thing to do was to pull Jensen back.  It was a shit deal, Jared knew, but getting panicky about the situation would only make things worse.  Strangely, seeing Jensen looking so off balance gave Jared confidence.  It reminded him that Jensen was just another kid really.  Four years difference between them wasn’t that wide of a gulf, particularly when one of them had grown up as a fosterling in the Empress’ palace, while the other had grown up fighting for every advantage he could get.  Jared figured that made them pretty even.  
The confidence boost made it possible for Jared to put both his hands on Jensen’s upper arms, and pull his shield tight around both of them.  He could feel the blood thrumming right under Jensen’s skin, alive and warm and right there, under his palms, and he drew strength from it, strength that he needed to fuel his shield.  
He leaned in close to Jensen’s ear, though he had no reason to think they could be overheard here. It was as if he was compelled to get closer to Jensen, as if skin to skin contact just wasn’t enough. “We have to get you out of here.  It won’t take Misha long to find out, watching you like he does. If we leave tonight, I can get you to safety—”  
Jensen shoved him away.  “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving Danni when she needs me most.  I’m not running.  Who the fuck do you think you are, Padalecki?  Hands fucking off me and remember your goddamned place.”  
Jensen turned to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks, the angry red of his face draining to white. Jared looked round to find that the waterfall behind him was no longer blood red. It was black and there was no way that meant anything good.  
“Jensen, I want to help you.  If that means staying on here, fine.  But let me help you.  Please. You’re no good to Danni if Misha throws you in prison.  Or worse.”  
Jensen turned.

**5.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20) **

Jensen barely comprehended the ensign’s words, his mind was too full of darkness. He kept his eyes averted from the wreck he’d made of Danni’s water feature, trying not to think about the water he’d corrupted, now as black as his uniform. It was hard to block it out, though, when the air was gradually filling with the cloying scent of decay. The blood he’d created was rotting, and Jensen didn’t know what to do. Padalecki was still talking, but it was those changeable eyes, so full of earnestness, that were breaking down Jensen’s resistance in a way no words could ever manage.

He tugged at the high leather collar of his sleeveless  jacket, the dress uniform suddenly constricting and uncomfortable. He didn’t _want_ to ask for help; he didn’t want to acknowledge his growing feelings for this man; he didn’t want any of this, but it seemed he had no choice.

“Okay, enough,” Jensen said, raising a hand and stopping Jared in mid flow. “You win. How do I stop this - this ‘projecting’, and how do I get the water back to normal? We can’t leave it like this.”

Jensen wasn’t warmed by the way Jared’s face lit up, or by his puppy-like eagerness to give Jensen a quick-fire lesson in psychic control. Not at all.

“Right, so the first thing is to relax and stop fighting me,” Jared said. “Forget our differing ranks and just listen, okay?”  
Jensen nodded, then wished he hadn’t. The movement intensified the pain in his head, and he was starting to wonder if this was some sort of psychic self-induced aneurysm. He unclenched his fists and stretched his fingers, willing each muscle in his body to relax. He could do this; what Jared was proposing were simple meditation techniques taught in every temple school, he’d been doing this since he was knee-high to the Emperor’s lap dog. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasant sound of Jared’s voice, allowing the soft tones to wash over him. After a moment or two the stench wafting on the warm breeze seemed to be lessening, and he opened his eyes, only to find Padalecki right inside his personal space.

“Holy Norah!” Jensen staggered backwards and nearly toppled into the water. Jared arrested his fall and this time, Jensen’s determination not to act on the steadily growing heat between them melted away. Jared’s arms were wrapped around him, Jared’s lips were so close Jensen could feel the moisture of Jared’s breathing, and all his resistance crumbled.

He pressed his lips to Jared’s, opening his own with a sigh.

**6.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/Ld53hj) **

Of course Jared had thought about this. Fantasized about it. Rubbed himself nearly raw thinking about the very lips that were pressed to his at that moment.  And so he knew exactly what he needed to do. He put up a different kind of shield. A visual, tight shield, just enough for two bodies, very, very close to each other.  Anyone who looked really carefully would see them; his shielding power mostly worked for psychic energy, but with the right incentive he could manage a weak visual distortion as well.

Judging by the insistence of Jensen’s hands on his body, he wasn’t going to need to maintain it for long, either, which was probably just as well. There were a million thoughts screaming through his brain telling him to stop, that they needed to get the hell out of there, but only one feeling, and that trumped everything else. His hands fumbled with the straps at Jensen’s waist, and found him hard underneath.  “Let me,” he whispered into Jensen’s ear, and Jensen thrust up into his hand with agreeable urgency.

It wasn’t easy to maintain the shield and hold Jensen up at the same time, but it was so fast and frantic that he didn’t have time to think about it, he just ran everything on autopilot. The smooth skin of Jensen’s cock under his fingers, the rhythmic urgency of Jensen’s need.  His natural instinct was to give, to let Jensen take everything he needed, so the shield almost operated on its own account, flowing around them, pressing them tightly together.

Jared worked his hand down in between Jensen’s cock and his stomach, his knees weakening at the heat of Jensen’s skin, at the sweat-drenched scent of Jensen’s body.  All he could do was use his palm to press Jensen hard up against his own grinding hips and hold on.

He had been right.  It didn’t take long.

Jensen leaned heavily against him when it was over, forehead pressed to Jared’s shoulder.  In that moment, Jared remembered everything. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be – he and Jensen knew each other. Not like they did now, as officer and ensign, but as old friends. Something was very wrong, more wrong than Jared had realised when he’d followed Jensen around in secret like an invisible guard dog.

Later, when the natural darkness in Jensen’s quarters shielded them and Jared’s was no longer needed, it was easier to slip back into their customary roles until Jared could figure out how to tell Jensen what was going on.  Luckily he didn’t have to cudgel his brain about it for long as Jensen gave him the opening he needed.

“So you can sense who’s using psychic energy? Who do we need to watch?” Jensen asked, binding up his boots, pulling his gear back on.  It was night, but that didn’t mean his day was over.

“You’re thinking about it all wrong,” Jared answered.  “Most everyone is like us.  Flares are just people with this little bit of extra.  It doesn’t mean we’re the enemy.  It doesn’t mean we’re a threat to Danneel.”

“But Gino—”

Moments ago, Jared had been running his fingers through Jensen’s sweat soaked hair, gentling him through the massive migraine that came pursuant to the blast of psychic energy he’d generated.  But now, he was uncertain of his place.  “With all due respect, Je— Sir, do you really think Gino was capable of what he did?  Or that Danneel is really in her right mind right now?  You grew up with them, we both did. You know this isn’t like them. And if someone is controlling them, then you’re in danger too. Your gift is powerful, we can both feel that. The moment you’re discovered, you’re at risk.”  Jared considered, then tacked on a hasty, “Sir.”

Jensen stood. The moonlight through the barracks windows played stark and light over the curve of his spine, and a moment ago, Jared would have acted on the urge to reach out and run his fingers over the straps that bound Jensen’s boots and up the back of his thigh. But things had changed now that Jensen had regained his composure. Jared stood instead, clasping his hands behind his back as a sign of respect for Jensen’s rank. Tried to show Jensen that he wasn’t going to cause any trouble for either of them, while hoping the information he was feeding his friend would sink in.

When Jensen saw Jared’s unthreatening posture, he softened a little.  “Hey,” he said, quiet in the darkness, “this is what we signed up for.  We don’t get to pick and choose when and under what conditions we are loyal. We knew the risks.  We signed up to protect Danneel, and that’s what I’m going to do.  Now get back to your own bunk, Ensign.”

Jared did as he was told. Because Jensen may have signed up to protect Danneel, but Jared had signed up to protect Jensen. And the only way that was going to happen was if he played his part. He knew Jensen. Jensen’s sense of honor was greater than his sense of self-preservation. He’d made up his mind to stay, and Jared wasn’t going to persuade him to do any different. Pressing him on the matter would only force Jensen to push him away.

And, as much as he would like things to be different, Jensen was Jared’s superior officer, and Jared was a mere ensign. The fact that Jensen’s abilities were blossoming at the worst possible time didn’t change a thing. The fact that he’d just kissed Jensen…the fact that he’d just jacked Jensen off right in the middle of the imperial gardens didn’t change a thing. Jensen would fulfil his duty, and Jared would do his.

Maybe he could convince Jensen later. Jensen’s power was so new and raw, they had no idea what he really could do, and how hard it would be to hide it. It would be easier once he was able to bring Jensen back to his own memories, but that would have to wait. If he could show Jensen that his latent power could be used against his will to harm Empress Danneel, the way Gino’s had, then maybe Jared could change Jensen’s mind.

It wasn’t until his back hit the rough canvas of his cot that he allowed himself to even _think_ about what just happened. The needy push of Jensen’s lips, the hard feel of his erection in Jared’s hand.  There hadn’t been time to think, only to feel and do. Now, he luxuriated in the memory, relishing every detail. The small noises of want that he had forced from Jensen. The way Jensen’s weight had felt, heavy and warm, against him. The rush that passed through his body with the knowledge that Jensen wanted him.

He’d gone to his bunk, dressed, hadn’t even taken his boots off.  But now he loosened his belt and thrust his hand down into his trousers.

Like with Jensen, it didn’t take long.

**7.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20) **

The door closed behind Padalecki with a soft snick that resounded loud inside Jensen’s head. The sound (or maybe it was Jared’s departure, along with his freaky mind-shielding ability) released something and Jensen’s knees folded like they were made of cloth instead of bone and sinew. He was on the floor, stone flags hard and cold, but he couldn’t see past the flood of images threatening to swamp him.

Memories. He was being inundated with memories that had been hidden, somehow forgotten. He clasped both hands to his head and moaned with the pain of remembering.  Jared had said it but at the time Jensen hadn’t noticed, hadn’t taken it in – ‘ _you grew up with them, we both did’_.  Sure enough, Jared was there. Jared was everywhere.

Bird-thin and laughing, playing tag with Danni and Gino and Jen; stretched tall and still skinny, training with swords in the palace’s private courtyards; taller still with fire-lit muscles gleaming and flexing as he hammered down on glowing metal, shaping it into something new, and it wasn’t the heat from the foundry that made Jensen sweat while he watched.

Fuck. How could he have forgotten those childhood memories, all his barely suppressed desire? How could he have forgotten Jared? Half of his life, all of his _heart_ had been wiped clean, erased from his head. Or more accurately, dammed up, blocked off and out of his reach. Whatever Jared had done on the parade ground must have eroded the mortar, then between them they’d knocked a damn great hole in the dam, letting everything flood out.

Did Jared even know what he’d done? Jensen shook his head, answering his own question. He didn’t think so, or Jared wouldn’t have left Jensen alone so easily. Or maybe he would, given that Jensen has been treating one of his oldest friends like a total stranger for the last… however long it’s been. But forgetting Jared was only scratching the surface of Jensen’s recovered past.

Merovingia was full of psychics - Flares. Having power was normal – had been normal, anyway. Until Misha arrived in Merovia City. What the hell had happened to his country? What had happened to him?

“Shit. Gino,” Jensen said, his voice loud in the silence of the night as realisation struck. Gino Graul was not a dangerous freak, he was just a Flare, completely normal. And if it wasn’t true he had suddenly manifested dangerous powers, then the likelihood that Gino would attempt to murder his beloved sister had just reduced to zero. Jensen was coming to think that he should be questioning every assumption, every decision he’d made since Gino’s imprisonment, if not before.

Out of the four of them, only Jensen hadn’t manifested any power at the age of maturity, and now his stomach turned with the same sickness he’d felt back then when he’d turned eighteen and nothing had happened. He was a Straight. Jared had tried to comfort him, but Jensen had pushed him away, turning to his military career and growing more and more remote from his childhood friends in a single-minded pursuit of distraction from his perceived failure. His bitterness at being among the dullard population, without the spark shared by Jared, Gino and so many of his friends, had been overwhelming. He’d known it was wrong to feel that way, there was nothing dull about being Straight, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted so badly to be a Flare, to shine.

Now whatever had happened to him had removed even the terms Straight and Flare, not only from Jensen’s mind but, it seemed, from virtually the whole population of Merovinga. How was that even possible?

“Sorcery.”

Jensen spun round so fast he heard his spine crack, but even so he wasn’t quick enough. Pellegrino leant in Jensen’s doorway, a sly smile on his face, watching while two Minions seized Jensen’s arms, pinning them to his sides.

“You!” Jensen exclaimed. He burned with a familiar longing to slap that grin of Pellegrino’s face, but there were more important considerations right now. Like finding out what Pellegrino meant by _sorcery_.

“Bring him to Misha,” Pellegrino ordered, “and keep him quiet.”

Before Jensen could even think to open his mouth, something cold touched the back of his neck and his head exploded into black.

**~:::::~**

Consciousness returned in slow increments.

The air was suffused with a kind of crackling freshness that reminded him of the aftermath of a thunderstorm. The sound of someone humming wove through Jensen’s darkness, followed by a disturbing yet pleasurable sensation brushing across his skin, like the soft touch of a feather, that raised goosebumps wherever it passed. His nipples were hard and he could feel his cock swelling slightly in his pants. It took Jensen’s jumbled brain a moment to register that the humming and the touching were being done by the same person, and another moment to realise that while he was half naked, he was not in his bed. This was a revelation neither expected nor welcome, and killed any burgeoning arousal instantly.

Fuck. Pellegrino had ambushed him and brought him – where exactly?

His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, simultaneously discovering that he was tied down and that the molester of his bare chest was Overlord Misha. Who thrust his face right into Jensen’s the moment he noticed Jensen was awake. Almost nose to nose, it was Misha who was the source of the smell of lightning (and oddly, peppermint) and the blue of his eyes was startling.

The fucker was smiling.

“Ah, you’re awake, that’s good. This will work _so_ much better with you conscious.”

To Jensen’s relief, after a couple of seconds of this close scrutiny, Misha pulled back a few inches, though he kept a hand pressed over Jensen’s heart with a steady pressure that was simultaneously disturbing and comforting.  At least the extra distance gave Jensen a chance to get a look at his surroundings. He didn’t recognise the room, but from the bare stone walls this looked like one of the older parts of the palace, so he guessed this was part of the Overlord’s personal quarters.  
However, knowing where he was being held was moot, given his inability to act on the knowledge. A speedy assessment of his circumstances confirmed his first impressions on waking. He was strapped by his wrists and ankles to some sort of table in the centre of the room; added to which, Overlord Misha was eyeing Jensen’s half naked body like he was on Misha’s menu for lunch. Without breaking contact with Jensen’s gaze, Misha beckoned to someone out of sight.

“Mark, darling, go and rally the Minions. It’s time for my swan song, and it’s going to be abnosome.”

Jensen would have rolled his eyes at the Overlord’s ridiculous made up word, but he was distracted when Pellegrino came into view. His old enemy’s next words were as effective at focusing Jensen’s attention as dumping a bucket of ice water over his head.

“You still haven’t explained how I persuade the Minions that the Imperial Guard have turned rogue and are attacking the Palace.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the details, Mark. With Jensen’s help, both sides will be convinced the other is the enemy. He’s the most powerful amplifier of magic I’ve ever had the pleasure to play with.”

Jensen strained at his bonds in vain desperation, sweat breaking out on his forehead and his wrists burning, but it was useless. The pressure from Misha’s hand on his chest increased until Jensen could have sworn his ribcage creaked and he was flattened back onto the bench with an ease that frightened him.

He opened his mouth to shout, in the vague hope that someone passing would raise an alarm, but Misha anticipated him. With his free hand, the Overlord put a finger to his lips and shook his head. The gesture stole Jensen’s breath before he could form a single sound.

“Tut, tut, Jensen,” he admonished, and expression of amused tolerance on his face. “Stop fighting and this will be far less painful for you.”

 **8.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/Ld53hj) **.

Jared jolted awake, drawn from fitful sleep by a shout that sounded like a call to arms. He sat up, confused, and peered into the darkness of the barracks. All was quiet save for the usual assortment of sleeping noises from the other recruits. No one else seemed to have heard anything. He tried to shake off the feeling of disorientation, the feeling that he was waking up somewhere different than where he fell asleep.

And then it hit him. Jensen. He’d some so close last night to making Jensen remember. As close as he dared, anyway; yanking someone unprepared out of a memory spell was a dangerous business, and he didn’t recall ever hearing of one as powerful as the one Misha had cast.

So what had wakened him without disturbing anyone else? Jared quietly got up from his cot and tightened his boots. His hand paused for a moment over his tunic, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He grabbed his light armour instead, he had the feeling he was going to need it.

As he strapped on his dagger, the call came again, clear this time, and in Jensen’s voice.  Now that he was fully awake, he knew it was in his head, and he knew what that meant.  The connection between he and Jensen wasn’t severed.  He’d been sloppy, and the risk to Jensen was…

He ran, recklessly out of the barracks and into the training yard, only remembering to slam up his shield after he’d honed in on Jensen’s location. He had no time to think like Jensen would - to plan and strategize and figure out how to best get the advantage over his enemy. Jared only had one directive, and that was _find Jensen._

He’d already suspected Misha was responsible, so it was easy to let his feet lead him through the familiar warren of the underground palace. This was his domain - the dark passages meant for servants, the hidden cells that often required a blacksmith’s skills to forge and secure manacles right into the walls.  As he ran, it was as if a cord was tight around his chest, pulling him, tugging him painfully along. It led him without faltering until he found himself standing outside a door that was trying hard to look nondescript. It would have succeed in its mission if Jared hadn’t been able to see the magical wards that kept it sealed against intruders.

Jared hesitated. He now realised that Misha was a sorcerer beyond the talent of any he had seen, by far.  If Misha wanted this door secured, then—but no. Jared felt it. He felt Jensen behind the door, and he felt Jensen’s powers magnifying his own. He found, after all, that he knew exactly what to do and had the confidence to attempt it. For Jensen.

He closed his eyes and let his shield drift forward, feeling its way through the cracks of the door, searching out the places where the wards encircled the door. He wrapped them in his shield, choking out their power. The door swung inward easily when he pushed; Misha had not even bothered to latch it.

As for Misha himself, his split second of surprise afforded Jared the opportunity to throw a shield at him and pin him to the wall. He had no time to register his own surprise at the effectiveness of his own power, there was only room for Jensen in his mind. Bound to a table in front of him, sweating and heaving at his restraints.  Jared felt, as if at a distance, Misha pushing similarly, struggling against the shield Jared had him encased in, but he knew he could safely ignore him. Perhaps in another situation, he would have faltered, but not where Jensen was concerned. He sliced through the leather straps that shackled Jensen to the table, and then they were running, Jensen regaining his bearings and strength with admirable speed.

Jared wouldn’t be able to hold Misha’s shield for long. As the distance between them increased, he felt his hold weaken.

 “Jensen,” he panted, “throw up a barrier!”

He wasn’t sure Jensen would understand or trust his own power, new as he was to his own abilities, but Jensen did him one better and the illusion of a wall, complete with dust and lichens and cobwebs, appeared behind them.  It wouldn’t fool Misha for long, but it would give them a head start.

That’s all he needed. Jensen was with him now, no longer ignorant of the danger they were in. They ran in sync, no need to speak, as they did when they were children. Jared almost laughed with how good it felt, reminded of the days when their games weren’t so deadly.

They were met with confusion in the courtyards. Clearly Misha had already been able to summon some of his Minions, but they hadn’t been given clear orders. Jensen barked out a few commands, and some of the Minions, former Imperial Guards themselves, snapped to attention.  The ensuing confusion bought them just the few extra moments they needed to slip through the gates into the city before anyone thought to lower them.

Now freedom was only a matter of losing themselves in the city streets, or the forest. Instinctively, Jared slowed his pace to half a step behind Jensen, letting him lead the way. Jensen always did have the better tactical mind, and Jared felt more secure knowing that he had Jensen’s back covered.

“The trees,” Jensen shouted over his shoulder.  “We don’t know who to trust in the city—”

Two whistling arrows cut him short, bringing him to his knees in front of Jared. A third found its target as Jared overshot then turned back, falling to his own knees in front of Jensen.

There was no thought, there was no planning or calculation or doubt in the strength of his abilities, he just flung his arm out and thought _stop._ He didn’t know what he was commanding to stop; the Minions that pursued them, the arrows that continued to rain down around them, the blood that oozed around the arrowheads planted obscenely in Jensen’s back, or just to time itself, to reality.

Regardless of what Jared had intended, everything _did_ stop. He felt a wave of power unlike any he had ever known before ripple through his body, flying outward in a shockwave that felled arrows mid-flight.  He saw men crumple, as if they had run full tilt into an invisible wall.  The wind stopped. The noise stopped. _Everything_ stopped.  Everything stood frozen in time, for as far as Jared could see around him.

All that remained was Jensen in his arms - living and warm and still bleeding to death before his eyes.

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/BV3vt5)

**9.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20) **

One thing at a time.

Jensen just had to concentrate, to retain his focus in spite of the feeling of being stretched in two different directions at once.  Jared was drawing on Jensen’s reserves, and that was fine, Jensen wanted Jared to take whatever he needed, not only because Jared’s shielding was helping them escape, but because it was Jared, and Jensen could deny him nothing. Hell, Jensen owed Jared, for having forgotten him for so long.

But Jared didn’t know that Misha was tapping into Jensen’s power too, in spite of Jared’s shields, and that was not okay. Jensen ran with purpose, like he was in charge of the situation, but he was barely holding it together. He was a shadow split between two torches and fear niggled at him. If this went on much longer, Jensen thought he might be stretched so thin between the two points that he would simply vanish.

They’d get through this. Together. Him and Jared, just like old times; how it should be. The newly returned memories were as warm as the touch of the sun on his bare skin as they ran out of the palace gates into the city plaza. Not for the first time, he wished he’d had time to put on his light armour and grab some weapons.

They just needed to get clear of the palace, regroup and come up with a plan.  The forest would be safer than the city, and he was just about to tell Jared to head for the east gate when a blow to his upper back made him stagger. It was swiftly followed by a second, low in the kidney area, and that was when Jensen realised that the annoying sound behind him was the unmusical twang of bow strings and the whine of arrows.

He was hit, and the fact that there was no initial pain was probably a bad sign. He could see the warm glow of Jared’s bronzed back ahead of him, unharmed. Jensen staggered a few steps, hoping to put his body between the guards and Jared, to give his friend a chance to get clear. Which of course meant Jared did the opposite. The self-sacrificing idiot turned back in time to catch Jensen as a third arrow struck and his knees gave way.

Fuck, okay. That one hurt, high up, punched through his shoulder like he was made of soft cheese instead of flesh and bone. At least he’d succeeded in putting himself between Jared and the deadly hail of missiles coming from their erstwhile colleagues.

He heard Pellegrino yelling about invaders, and the thuds as more random arrows peppered the packed earth of the plaza, but everything seemed far away and unimportant. Jared’s body was slick with sweat but Jensen wanted nothing more than to lean closer. It was comforting to feel Jared’s strong heartbeat where their chests pressed together, to inhale the familiar clean scents of heated skin and leather. He felt rather than heard it when Jared cried out, a wordless sound of fury and denial that fizzed through Jensen like adrenaline. No, no, no. Was Jared hit?

Everything stopped at the sound of Jared’s pain. A strange dome of silence fell around them, like the eye of a storm. Their mingled breathing sounded loud and harsh in Jensen’s ears, as if the only sounds left in the world were those inside his head. He wondered if he was already dead, even though the agony throbbing from his wounds felt real enough.  
“Jay,” he croaked, just to see if he could.

Jared dipped his head, pressed his cheek against Jensen’s. It was wet, and Jensen realised Jared was crying. He tried to lift his hand to brush the tears away, but his arm was too heavy to move.

“Hey, hey,” Jensen said, trying hard to raise his voice above a whisper. It was important that Jared heard him. “It’s okay, everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to get out of here, free Gino…”

“Nothing’s fine, Jen,” and the bitterness in Jared’s voice made Jensen long to fix things so badly, it almost hurt more than Pellegrino’s arrows. “Nothing will ever be fine again if you’re gone.”

Jensen wanted to reassure Jared, to promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, but he knew it was a lie. Darkness was already gathering at the edges of his vision, and he was shivering even though he knew that the brazen sun high overhead was hot enough to fry an egg on a bronze breastplate.

“Well, I’m not letting you die.” Jared declared, and held Jensen tighter, so Jensen could feel the gathering determination in every muscle of his friend’s body. There was one last thing Jensen could do for Jared. He relaxed and opened up the last remnants of his power to Jared’s unconscious demands.

“Whatever you need, Jay. Take it all.”

 **10.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/Ld53hj) **.

He wasn’t a healer.  Not by a long shot; he’d never even _known_ a healer to be honest. But then, he hadn’t known he could circumvent warded doors or stop time, either, so he let instinct take over. Every single fiber of his being strained toward Jensen, wanting to fix this, wanting to stop the inevitable.

He could smell the blood that poured from Jensen’s wounds, too much of it, much too much -so when Jensen suddenly sagged in his arms, Jared thought it was over, that Jensen was gone. But no, Jensen was unconscious, not dead; the relaxing of his body was Jensen surrendering his power over to Jared. It was as if a conduit had opened into his center, and he could draw from Jensen whatever he needed. Like with Misha’s door, he found he knew what to do. He sent delicate tendrils of his shield down into Jensen’s flesh, alongside the arrows. Felt each tendril branch off into infinitesimally smaller and smaller offshoots, seeking out the places, however small, that had been severed, and sealing them.  He felt the moment Jensen’s wounds were effectively cauterised, and pulled the arrows out. The wounds were still open, and they would need to be stitched later by a real healer, but for now, they would hold.

Around them, the world held still, as if breathless and waiting. It was a short distance to the forest where they could lose themselves, his shield only needed to hold until then, and with Jensen’s power magnifying his abilities, he felt as if he could hold it indefinitely. That wouldn’t be necessary, he knew of several places they could go to be safe, but there was no sense wasting any time.  He carefully lifted Jensen onto his shoulder, and ran.

**~:::::~**

It was not much more than a forgotten steam station, relic from the time when transporters couldn’t make it from the Merovia City to Carolingia without a charge half way in between, but it would do. There was water of course, and no roads for miles around.  Jared sewed Jensen up as best he could and waited for Jensen to recover. He spent the time obsessively checking his shields. He had shields to shield his shields, and an extra personal shield around Jensen, just to be sure. He snared game in the nearby forest, and swept out the leaves and debris from the floor as best he could. There was not much in the way of comfort, but they’d both trained to sleep on the ground with nothing more than their rucksacks to rest their head on, they’d be fine.

It was not more than a day before Jensen started to revive. His wounds had healed raggedly and ugly, but it didn’t look like there was any infection, and Jensen’s forehead was cool and dry to Jared’s touch.

“Hey,” Jensen lifted his head off the folded shirt Jared had placed on the floor.

Jared dropped to his knees next to Jensen. “Took you long enough,” he said, but with no real bite in his words. He ran his fingers over Jensen’s forehead, still searching for fever, but he seemed okay.

“Well maybe if someone didn’t suck literally every drop of energy—”

“Save it.  You don’t have it all back yet.”

Jensen ran a shaky hand over his face.  “I don’t think… I don’t think I’ll ever get it all back, you know?”

Jared did know. He’d never been the most powerful of their group, not by a long shot. But in the past two days, he’d done things way, way above his pay grade. They were safe here from Pellegrino and even Misha, because he’d had access to a deep, deep well of power that had lain dormant in Jensen all these years, and which now seemed indelibly tied to his own. Jensen would have to be happy sharing it with Jared, but he’d be fine, no one needed all that power. No one even needed half of it.

And yet, this was the start of war, wasn’t it?  They were going to need everything they could draw on.

“I’m sorry I forgot you,” Jensen said, his voice raw.

Jared eased himself down onto the gritty floor next to Jensen.  “I only half remembered you until after we reconnected. If I ever thought that you had really forgotten me for good, I couldn’t have carried on, but I knew you’d come around.”  
   
Jensen gingerly rolled over on his side and propped his head up on his elbow. He trailed his fingers over Jared’s side. “Where are we? How safe are we here?”

Jared couldn’t help but smile. This was a well-worn dialogue between the two of them.  All the times they’d find a hidden room in the palace, or a forgotten corner in the fields. “Take it easy. We’re not out of danger yet. Until you’re completely recovered, we’re vulnerable.”

“Danneel?  Gino?”  Jensen asked, his voice already showing strain from just the small effort required to hold himself up and speak. _Typical_ , Jared thought, _can’t even sit up and he’s already worrying about the Empress._  Jensen always was the loyal one.  For his part, Jared’s allegiance lay at squarely at Jensen’s feet, wherever Jensen led them.

Jared shrugged.  “No news yet, sorry to report. I couldn’t leave this place unguarded while you were out. So far, no one has found us, friend or foe. But I can—”

“It can wait,” Jensen said.  “We’re playing the long game now, no sense going off half cocked.”

“It may not take as long as you think. The memory spell they put on you broke down pretty quick once we found a chink, it may be that Misha bit off more than he can chew. His plan is falling apart.”

“Well, not everyone he put a spell on is going to be on the receiving end of a Padalecki special, I hope, but you may be right.”

Jared ducked his head to hide his grin. “Let’s get you up to speed first, and then we’ll worry about what’s going on out there.”

**11.[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/housefullofbooks/7JLk20) **

Jared’s over-protectiveness was one trait that Jensen would have been glad to carry on forgetting. Three full days after he’d woken up at the way station, Jensen’s deep-rooted fatigue had eased up. He felt more than ready to take on Misha and Pellegrino, but Jared blocked him at every turn, wouldn’t even go beyond a few minutes making out when all of Jensen’s body was protesting that Jared was _right there_. And fuck it, Jensen had missed Jared even if he hadn’t known it – missed how annoying he was with the farting and the constant joking around, missed that gorgeous smile and those dimples, missed that firm body and warm skin pressing him down onto his mattress.

Goddamn it, but the frustration from the inaction of all kinds was killing Jensen.

On the fourth day of this virtual imprisonment, Jensen had had enough. Time for an ultimatum.

“It’s your choice, Jared. I’m going to prove I’m physically fit again one way or another. Either we have a whole day of nothing but nakedness and sex, starting right now, or we can just go into the city and find out what’s going on.”

Jensen waited while a whole range of emotions raced across Jared’s mobile face. As far as Jensen was concerned, he couldn’t lose. Door number one got him some relief from the blue balls that had been plaguing him ever since Jared had jerked him off what felt like weeks ago back in the city; while door number two got them both back to saving Merovingia from Misha and Pellegrino. And if Jared went for door number one, Jensen was sure he’d have no problem convincing Jared he was more than ready to get out there again. In fact, Jensen had just talked himself round to having the marathon sex first regardless, when Jared nodded quickly and started packing their meagre gear.

“You’re right, Merovingia needs us.” Jared said, and Jensen swiftly suppressed a frisson of disappointment. Guess his balls would have to wait.

The journey back to Merovia City gave Jensen a new appreciation of the depth of Jared’s devotion. Though it only took them a couple of hours to reach the city walls, it must have taken twice that when Jared had been carrying Jensen’s unconscious ass all alone.

The roads were ominously quiet but they could see the city gates were wide open as they approached. Jensen felt a gentle tugging at his insides and he knew that Jared was drawing on Jensen’s power to throw a cloak of concealment over them both. He had a moment of dizziness but it was gone before he really registered it was there, so his smile at Jared’s anxious look was completely genuine.

“I’m fine, Jay, really.”

As it turned out, their stealth approach wasn’t necessary; neither was their city in need of liberation. In truth, it was kind of an anti-climax. In the distance they could hear cheering, and as they reached the central plaza they discovered the reason for the empty streets, because the first people they bumped into were Commander Morgan, Prince Gino and the Empress herself, heading a triumphal procession through Merovia City.

Jared was so surprised his control of their shield must have slipped, because the next thing Jensen knew, he had an armful of a shrieking Danneel, and his back was being pummelled by Gino. Someone brought extra horses and then Jensen was mounted, flanked by Danneel and Morgan and for a terrifying moment he lost sight of Jared. The relief was unspeakable when Jensen spotted him looking uncomfortable and much too tall for his horse, riding side by side with Gino.  
The rest of the day passed in a blur of happiness. Flares in the crowd, who had rediscovered their talents, created rainbows and scented petals that fell from a cloudless blue sky, while cheers from the Straights followed the procession as it wound around the city in a unhurried loop, ending back at the palace where a huge feast had been prepared. Danni and Gino spent some time handing out food gifts to everyone before entering the great hall to celebrate and to finally fill in Jensen and Jared on events following their flight from the city.

Misha had not been lying when he’d said he was bored with Merovingia and was moving on, because immediately after Jared had stopped time as well as breaking Misha’s glamours, the former Overlord had disappeared, leaving Pellegrino alone to deal with the aftermath. With Misha and his mind control magic gone, it hadn’t taken long for Pellegrino to find that most of his armed forces felt no loyalty to him whatsoever, and moreover, actively disliked him and his overbearing ways. Freed of any illusions, most of the Minions and all of the Imperial Guard realised they had been manipulated, and Danni had rushed to the dungeons to reconcile with her brother and drag him out into the light.

It had taken a few more days for the remnants of Misha’s magic to be completely cleansed from the city, during which time Danneel had dispatched scouts to search for Jared and Jensen, while organising a massive celebration.

“Of course we’d hoped we’d find you both and you’d be in time to join us, and you were!” Danneel grinned at them, and Gino raised his glass in what must have been the twentieth toast of the evening. Jensen glanced over at Jared, who was adorably pink cheeked and ruffled from where Danni kept messing up his hair like he was one of her favourite wolfhounds. Jensen shifted awkwardly in his seat, suddenly wishing they were back in the seclusion of their hiding place in the woods. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to drag Jared, by that stupidly long hair if necessary, and throw him down onto a mattress and ravish him.  Even as the thought crossed his mind, Jared’s startled gaze met Jensen’s and he flushed a deeper red.

Well, bloody Norah. Their bond was even deeper than Jensen had guessed, because clearly he was broadcasting his dirty thoughts right into Jared’s mind. He just hoped that’s as far as the broadcast went. It would be too embarrassing to have any other Flares picking up on the things he wanted to do to Jared, or worse, have Jared do to him.

Much as he loved his Empress and was happy his country had been restored, Jensen couldn’t wait for this celebration to be over.

The next two days were a nightmare. Jensen barely saw Jared, and when their paths did cross it was always in company. Gino dragging Jared to meet some cousins from Carolingia who wanted to thank him; Danneel making Jensen sit with the archivist and dictate the whole tale for the records; more feasting, a civil function with the townsfolk and the Mayor where Jared was seated on Gino’s left, and Jensen on Danneel’s right and no way to even talk, let alone kiss Jared until neither of them could see straight.

The frustration was driving Jensen crazy, so when a hand landed on his shoulder at the third feast in so many days, he snapped.

“No, I don’t want more ale. Or wine. Or …’” he broke off when a voice he knew so well sounded  inside his head.

: _Or for me to suck your brains out through your dick?_ :

: _Holy Norah! Jared? How are you doing this?_ :

Jensen looked around and realised Jared was nowhere to be seen. Dammit, somehow he’d escaped and Jensen wanted to know how. And more importantly, _where_ Jared was.

: _I think I’ve perfected our_ _connection - cool, huh? And I’m_ here _, waiting for you_.:

When Jared said _here_ , a familiar image popped into Jensen’s head. Before he’d even thought about it he was on his feet and making babbled excuses to Jennifer Graul, who’d been draped over him all evening. By the time he exited the hall he was running, Jared’s laugh echoing through Jensen’s mind.

: _Eager, much?_ :

: _Shut up, Ensign_.: “Like you aren’t gasping for it too,” Jensen grinned as he skidded to a halt in front of the fountain in the Imperial Garden, right where their journey to awakening had started. It felt right to be here now, with Jared.

It seemed that Jared was in full agreement, because he wasted no time on further words, pulling Jensen in for that long anticipated kiss. It was everything Jensen had hoped for and more. His veins lit up and turned to liquid fire, and the best thing?

The best part was knowing that Jared shared every breath, every tingle, every beat of his heart, because he felt it all.

It was finally a perfect reunion.

 


End file.
